


Infinity x Infinity

by transkeithkogane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Major Spoilers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-23 23:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12518948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transkeithkogane/pseuds/transkeithkogane
Summary: Keith and Lance attempt to navigate the wreckage of their relationship, but between secrets and self-doubt, their bond might not be enough to stretch the galaxies between them.Set Post-Season Four.





	1. Static

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the above tags, particularly the ones about spoilers and triggers. This fic picks up directly after the end of Season Four and there are **major spoilers** ahead. Do not read if you don't want things spoiled for you. 
> 
> The rating on this fic might change if I feel like it needs to in later chapters. 
> 
> The title is taken from "Sun" by Sleeping At Last because the entire space section of their Atlas album is the soundtrack to Klance.

He white-knuckles the controls of the Galra ship, inhales deep through his nose like he’s drowning, feels cooling sweat trickle down across his temples. 

_It’s done. It’s done. It’s done._

For now.

When he closes his eyes, he can still see the brilliant flash of Lotor’s cannon, can make out the shimmering matrix of the shield he was about to smash into seconds before it dissipated into nothingness. 

His hands are shaking as he finally pries his fingers away from cool metal, letting them fall into his lap. As he stares out the windshield of the craft, everything seems just a bit off. Instead of the bright luminescence of the castle walls, the Blade’s hangar is demure in muted greys and purples, dim light doing nothing to stave off the shadows pooling in the corners. The base is eerie, no voices of the other paladin’s echoing off the smooth curves of the vaulted ceiling. 

Should he have gone to them instead? Lance, Shiro, Pidge, Allura, Hunk… 

He doesn’t want the lecture. 

More importantly, he doesn’t want the celebration. Is it their celebration to have? Even after striking such a large blow against Zarkon’s forces, everything is in turmoil. Lotor, the witch, the Blade of Marmora, Voltron. He still feels that vice grip on his heart, the insistent tug. 

It hurts. An invisible wound. A throbbing ache in the deepest part of his chest. 

It’s not just Voltron that has a hold on him. His mind might conjure up images of the robot, of the lions, when he’s on missions, when his back’s against the wall, but Lance comes to him in his dreams. _His Lance._

He always thinks about him at the most impractical times. Now. Back then. Just before. When he squeezed his eyes shut against the inevitably of his decision, all he saw was chocolate brown hair and blue eyes sparkling like the surface of the ocean. All he could hear was his voice, begging him to turn back. 

_I’m sorry._

Does he know? Does he understand the implications behind Keith’s reckless charge towards the Galra cruiser? 

It might seem self-explanatory but Lance always was a bit dense. 

He feels a laugh bubble up at that thought, but the noise gets caught against the lump in his throat. His lungs only seem to constrict further and a tear tracks its way down the side of his face, blending in with his drying sweat. 

He wants to peel himself from the smooth black suit that’s sticking to every inch of him, separate his true skin from the facade of bravery he’s wearing. He normally hates to be naked, hates feeling vulnerable, but he’s not sure he could feel any worse than this, raw and fraying like an exposed nerve. 

Tilting forward in his seat, he skims his fingers over the panel in front of him, drawing the radio back to life. It’s only static, grating and crackling against the silence, making his heart jump at every sputter, only to have it sink again. He’s not sure which he prefers: uninterrupted silence with his thoughts or the loneliness of white noise, the distinctive absence of connection with anyone else. 

He switches the radio off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some slightly more spoiler-y notes at the end here. I've always wanted to write a trans Keith fic because there's not enough canon compliant trans Keith fics and I like to be the change I wish to see in the world and, after the end of this most recent season, I had a lot of feelings, particularly about what Keith was/is willing to sacrifice for the team as well as how his gender identity would affect his relationships with the other paladins.


	2. Fracture

“Does it hurt?” 

Keith rolled his eyes as he glanced up from where he was injecting himself to focus in on Lance’s face, on the inquisitive blue eyes that were watching his every move. “No, it feels fantastic to stab myself in the leg with a giant needle.” He depressed the syringe before removing it smoothly, not wanting to drag this out more than it needed to be, but before he could reach for the cotton ball he had set out to stop the bleeding, he felt a gentle pressure on his thigh.

The gesture was well-meaning, but he knew Lance could feel him tense under his touch and the other man seemed torn about whether or not he should pull away. As some sort of reassurance, Keith tried his best to muster up a genuine smile, but it came out tight-lipped. “Thanks.” His voice was strained as well and there was a question in Lance’s eyes that Keith knew he couldn’t answer. 

_Why don’t you want to share this part of yourself with me?_

Lance didn’t voice his concerns though. He was probably scared, Keith guessed. For all his good intentions, Keith could still see his discomfort and he reached out to press his fingers against the cotton ball so Lance could withdraw his hand. He didn’t want to force it. He had no use for some kind of false acceptance, didn’t want there to another difference setting him apart from the rest of the team. 

Besides, he hadn’t told Lance until after they’d started dating. This was on him. He’d put Lance in this position, of not being able to get away if he wanted to. 

Lance’s touch was soft as his fingers brushed across Keith’s knuckles where he was still pressing down hard on his thigh. 

“I told Hunk I’d help him with a patrol he’s doing so um… I should probably go and get ready.” 

It was a flimsy excuse but Keith wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or Lance’s. Probably his own. Lance was empathetic when he wanted to be and, in these moments, he always seemed hypersensitive to even the slightest shift in Keith’s mood. 

“Lance—” 

“It’s alright.” When he looked up, Lance had that gentle smile on his face that Keith loved, the one that was reserved for private moments between the two of them. There was nothing fabricated about it. It wasn’t overly bright like when Lance was posturing, trying to talk himself up during their team meetings. 

No matter what sort of mood he was in, Keith could never resist returning that smile and he saw the way Lance’s eyes lit up at that. “I love you.” Lance leaned in to press a kiss to his temple and the puffs of breath from his words tickled against Keith’s skin. 

“I know.” His tone was fond as he turned his head to capture Lance’s lips in a proper kiss. When they broke away, he smiled again. “I love you too.” 

\- - - - - 

The needle stings against tense muscles and, for a moment, he lets the blood bubble up from the pinprick before pressing a cotton ball against his skin, eyes slipping closed as he takes a deep breath. He still hates doing this, even when it’s practically become muscle memory. He applies a bit more pressure, exhaling in a whoosh of air. 

He’s barely managed to get a self-adhering bandage over the injection site before the door to his room explodes. Literally. 

The side with the magnetic lock bursts into a cloud of smoke and sparks before the whole thing is kicked off its automatic track, crashing to the ground. 

Keith’s already reaching for his blade when he recognizes the lanky figure that comes barreling in and his fingers relax, if only a minuscule amount. 

There are bags under Lance’s eyes, which is surprising considering Keith finds Lance’s ability to sleep through just about anything rather impressive. He wonders if it’s because Lance’s bunk feels empty these days. He knows his does. 

It’s the little things he misses the most: how Lance sleeps with a thousand blankets and they somehow all end up on the floor by morning, that stupid half-smile he always shoots in Keith’s direction when he knows he’s about to get whatever he wants from him, the way Lance scrunches up his nose when he’s pretending to be mad at Keith’s teasing. 

Lance definitely isn’t pretending now. It’s rare to see him this angry. In fact, Keith’s almost taken aback by the pure rage balancing on the square of his shoulders, etched in the pinch of Lance’s eyebrows,. He’s got his bayard in one hand and the other is clenched tight into a fist, bones straining white against skin he’s holding so tight. 

But, beneath all the aggression, Keith can see the other man’s a breath away from tears, nose red and cheeks flushed. This is the conversation he’s been avoiding, the reason why he hasn’t tuned in to any of the frequencies they use to communicate privately. 

He rises to his feet, dismantling the syringe as quickly as possible before he snatches up a pair of sweatpants from the bed. If they’re going to do this, he’s not going to do it in his boxers. “You could have knocked.” He turns accusing eyes back to his boyfriend. Even if he wants to be kind, his first instinct is always to protect himself, even against Lance. 

Lance scoffs and it’s clear he’s ready for a fight, for a throw down, drag out fight where they both pretend they’re not hurting, but Keith knows he’s landed the first blow with his aggressive tone, with his lack of communication over the past few days. 

“Would you have let me in?” Lance’s voice is just as cold but the words come out through gritted teeth that hold back all the emotion that’s threatening to spill over. 

_No_. “Yes.” He slips into the sweatpants and turns to face Lance, arms crossed over his chest. “Besides, it wasn’t locked.” They both know it’s a lie. Keith always locks the door to his room when he’s doing his T injections. 

There’s a pause, a heartbeat, where Keith tries to decipher the expression on Lance’s face, his next move. Keith can see the struggle between two kinds of desperation, the same one that’s tugging his heart apart. 

“You’re so goddamn selfish.” 

He can tell Lance is trying to come off angry, but his voice breaks on the last word and suddenly Keith is adamant about avoiding eye contact with Lance. He doesn’t want to see him cry. He doesn’t want to see him cry. 

“What did you think was going to happen?” He still can’t look at Lance, even though he can feel Lance’s gaze boring into him, seeing right deep down to the core of him like he always does. “I-If you had crashed— If you had— what did you think was going to happen?”

“We were all gonna die!” The words burst out of him, wild and reckless and out of his control. “What did I _think_ was gonna happen?! Naxzela was going to explode and we were all gonna die. You and me and the rest of the team and the rebels and _everyone_!” This was why he didn’t want to have this conversation. Because once the words started coming, he couldn’t stop them. They rushed out, like Keith had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike, the timing that would inflict the most damage. 

“You’re so fucking naive, Lance! Would you rather have us all die—” 

“Yes!” The ferocity of Lance’s answer shocks Keith out of whatever breakneck rambling he’s stuck in and his grey eyes jerk back to the other man. 

A tear tracks its way down Lance’s cheek. It almost just reaches the corner of his lips before he angrily scrubs it away. 

“Lance…” 

There’s no right way to talk about this. None of them have ever been prepared for the gravity of their situation. It happened all at once, so fast that none of them realized until it was too late what the implications of war really were.

Another tear escapes when Lance blinks, eyelashes wetting his cheeks. 

“Lance.” 

They’re nearly touching now, a breath away from each other, and Keith isn’t sure which one of them closed the distance but the air around them is calmer now. 

Lance’s fingers find the swell of his hip and the touch takes him back to another time, another place where everything was just one big adventure and they were too caught up in each other to care about anything else. 

“You can’t do things like that… You can’t…” Lance sounds small and scared and a strange sense of relief washes over him. It’s endearing, in the most fucked up kind of way. 

He brings his arms up around Lance’s shoulders, tugs him close to bask in the familiar scent of his shampoo, something that always reminds him of spring showers on fresh flowers. Lance’s paladin armor is cool to the touch and sticks to Keith’s bare skin but he doesn’t pull back for even a moment. 

“I didn’t have a choice.” 

Lance doesn’t reply, but Keith can feel his uneven breathing and the wetness of tears of his bare shoulder. 

Even though Lance is still tucked into his chest, the other man is unyielding, hard edges and bad decisions reinforcing the barrier between them.

\- - - - - 

Lance’s finger traced over the tiny pinprick scab on his thigh and Keith shivered, feigned irritation as he shifted against his pillow to peer over with one eye. 

“I didn’t notice them before.” 

Keith huffed and batted Lance’s hand away but he knew Lance was in one of those moods and, sure enough, the touch was back as quickly as he pushed it away. “Of course you didn’t. You’re not exactly observant.” He wanted to point out that there were other, more obvious signs that Lance could have noticed, but he kept that to himself. 

Besides, it hardly mattered as Lance shifted, tangling the sheets around them as he folded himself over Keith. 

“Idiot.” But the insult was swallowed in the press of their lips. Lance was doing that thing where he smashed their noses together just because it bothered Keith and he nipped at Lance’s lips to be contrary. 

“Stop, idiot.” He was laughing though and Lance peppered kisses across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks as he tried half-heartedly to wriggle out from under him. He shoved at Lance’s chest and the other man caught him by the wrist. His free hand was back on Keith’s thigh. 

“You know I don’t care, right?” Lance’s gaze was earnest and there was nowhere for Keith to run with Lance on top of him. Lance’s hand was so warm, or maybe Keith was just hyperaware of the touch now, of what Lance was trying to communicate with the contact. 

Eventually, he relaxed, propped himself up on his elbows so he could lean forward to bring their lips together again. “I know.” 

\- - - - -

He’s not sure how long he holds Lance for and, while eventually Lance stops shaking, he doesn’t meet Keith’s gaze when he pulls away. 

“You always have a choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: angsty Klance is my fave but I had the most fun writing the parts of this where they're being cute and cuddly. 
> 
> Also, this chapter could technically be a one shot because I'm bad at organizing my life but it's not so yolo let's goooo! These first few chapters will probably be more Klance focused and take a look into where their relationship is and how it got that way. More of the overarching plot with other characters will develop further along down the line.


	3. Invade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for being so patient with me! I had so many different ways this chapter could have gone and it was so hard to narrow it down to one but here it is! Also apologies in advance that there's not quite as much Klance focus in this chapter but, rest assured, this fic is still all about The Boys™.

Waiting for Lance’s tears to stop is like waiting for rainclouds to clear. Every time it seems as though the sun is going to break through, a fresh wave stains a salty track down his cheeks, tinged red with emotion. Keith tries to wipe them away, but Lance jerks back, stares at him like a wounded stray, mistrustful of his intentions. He raises his own hand, scrubs at his cheeks until they’re glowing even hotter than before, but when he catches Keith staring, Keith quickly averts his gaze, releases the other man from the cage of his arms. 

“I’m not here to talk about us.” Lance is backtracking now, verbally and physically, as he takes a half-step backwards towards the door. Out of the two of them, Lance is more willing to be open like this… until he feels like he’s revealed too much of himself, then his skills of diversion nearly rival Keith’s. 

“Lance.” He reaches out for him again, prays that he won’t shy away. He’s never thought of Lance as delicate before. Even when he could tell the other man was hurling insults or puffing out his chest to give the impression of boldness, Lance always shined in his own way, always sent light sparkling out from within himself. 

There’s no light now, like someone flipped a switch. Keith knows he has a way of draining other people, of sucking all the goodness out of them like it’s the oxygen he needs to survive, and his fingers stop just shy of Lance’s wrist. 

Their eyes lock. Keith’s grey to Lance’s blue. He still remembers the first time he saw them up close. 

_Who are you?_

He wonders if Lance will shatter under his touch, will fall apart into a million different pieces that even Keith’s steady hands can’t fit back together. He grabs his wrist anyway, tugs him back, and before Lance can protest, he wraps his arms back around him. 

Their lips meet in a shock of stuttered breath and desperate tongues and Keith can immediately feel his heart pound a staccato against his ribcage because kissing Lance always gives him an adrenaline rush like nothing else in the world. Lance’s fingers tangle in his hair, tug insistent at the ends of his dark locks and his lips part willingly, gratefully. But he’s barely had a chance to taste Lance before a voice grates jarring against his ears. 

“Am I interrupting?” 

It’s not a voice that he can place immediately. The tone is low and polished, but it’s the unsettling stir of anxiety in the pit of his stomach that finally sends a jolt of recognition through Keith. He leaps back away from the broken door, dragging Lance with him as his fingers close around the hilt of his blade. The weapon’s not much of a comfort given the close proximity in the room but he squarely plants himself between the intruder and Lance, eyes narrowed down to a hostile glare. 

“Lotor.” 

Keith’s not so naive as to conform to the dichotomy of good and evil laid out in the black and white terms of hero and villain. He understands that Lotor might not be as much their enemy as they once considered. After all, in some sense, he owes Lotor his life. However, that doesn't mean he's interested in sharing any space with the fallen Galra prince. It certainly doesn't imply that Lotor had permission to show up here, on the Blade’s ship or in this private moment that is supposed to be the start of mending his relationship with Lance. 

“Relax. I'm not free of chaperones,” Lotor reassures in a tone that does absolutely nothing to make Keith relax. Chaperones? 

Keith’s eyes flare angry and confused at Lance and the other man quickly holds up his hands in a silent plea for forgiveness. “It wasn't my idea!” 

The smug look on Lotor’s face makes Keith’s grip tighten on the hilt of his knife, even as he feels Lance’s hand settle warm at the small of his back, a tentative attempt at comfort. 

“For the record, when he came to the castle, I didn't want to talk to him. I said we should send him right back out of the airlock, but I was overruled.” Lance’s tone is low and earnest, although Keith is still sure Lotor can hear everything they’re saying and he shakes his head ever so slightly, brushes his fingers along the inside of Lance’s wrist to steady him. He's sure it was Shiro who agreed to hear Lotor out, maybe Matt if he was there was well. He knows there's no way Shiro would let Lotor slip out of their grasp, likely of the mindset that keeping him close could make it easier to capture him should he betray them. Of course Lance wasn't on board with that decision. 

“You two make a cute couple.” Keith visibly starts at the words, hand jerking back from Lance as though his skin is suddenly white hot. Lance only just manages to stay composed but Keith can see a heat rising in his cheeks. 

They're used to Hunk and Pidge who are equally oblivious in their own ways and Shiro and Allura who pretend not to notice their gentle touches, their meaningful glances. Lotor’s a different breed and Keith can feel his stomach churn nervously at the idea that Lotor could use this against them. It'd be so easy…

“Shut up.” The words come out biting, hurled across the room at the Galra with more venom than Keith has ever heard Lance spit. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I saved you?” There's a glint in Lotor’s eyes that makes Keith want to avert his own gaze and he can tell by the way Lance bristles next to him, eyes narrowing and hands clenching into fists, that his boyfriend sees it too. He’s not sure how to read it, but he feels very much like the prey of some great, wild animal coming face to face with their hunter for the first time. 

He wishes Lotor wasn't so easily worming his way into his thoughts. It’s only natural for him to speculate. He’s positive the rescue had nothing to do with him personally. It’sone part of a larger strategy and the goal of this game is to figure out Lotor’s plan before he’s able to enact it. 

“I know why you saved me.” Keith’s voice is stronger than he expects, forceful in the way it fills the bedroom as he takes a step forward, the blade in his hand shifting to its full length as he raises the tip to point directly at Lotor’s forehead. “You wanted to gain our trust, and apparently it worked.” 

Out of the corner of his eyes, Keith can see Lance pouting at his words and he has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. _Come on, Lance. We talked about this. A united front?_ Thankfully, Lance seems to get his telepathic message and his boyfriend turns a stern glare at Lotor. 

“Right. But we trust you about… zero percent.” 

Keith has to hold back a smile although, much to his annoyance, it seems as though Lotor is mirroring his expression, mirth tugging at the corners of his lips, and that instantly makes any of Keith’s good nature disappear like snuffing out a candle. 

“Lance, what the hell is he doing here?” he asks through gritted teeth. Lotor doesn’t seem to be interested in a fight but, as much as Keith wants to believe the paladins don’t trust Lotor, there’s no other explanation for him being here. He needs the truth, before he launches himself across the room at Lotor who seems infinitely amused by their anger. 

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, Keith hears footsteps pounding down the hallway before Lance can reply and, a moment later, Shiro’s barreling through the door, robotic arm grabbing Lotor firmly by the front of his shirt, even though Keith suspects he’s aiming for the Galra’s neck. Pidge, Hunk, and Allura are close behind, bayards brandished at their prisoner. Well, that’s what Keith supposes Lotor is. Even now, he’s smirking, and Keith looks away quickly when their eyes happen to meet.

“See? My chaperones.” Lotor indicates the paladins who seem to range from furious (Shiro) to frustrated (Allura) to embarrassed (Pidge). 

\- - - - - 

“Kolivan is going to _kill_ you.” Keith hisses to Shiro. They’ve moved the group to the hangar of the ship, and Lotor’s been secured across the room with Pidge, Allura, and Hunk watching him suspiciously. Hunk starts every time the prince so much as blinks, but Keith supposes that’s better than losing him again. 

“Kolivan’s on his way now. He’s aware of what’s going on.” Keith’s eyes widen at that and he feels Lance shift uncomfortably beside him. He’s about to reach out, to brush their fingertips together, but he’s suddenly reminded of Lotor’s piercing gaze and thinks otherwise which is why Shiro’s hand on his shoulder startles him. 

“We contacted Kolivan when Lotor first approached us,” Shiro continues. “He agreed that it would be best to hear him out. Any information he provides us with could be helpful—”

“And you just didn’t think I would want to know?” Keith steps away from Shiro’s touch as he interrupts. Maybe it’s no longer his place to be involved in issues that pertain strictly to Voltron, but if Shiro has already contacted Kolivan, shouldn’t he have been included in the loop? He realizes suddenly that this is why there’s so much tension in the way Lance is avoiding his gaze. This was what he was going to explain to him when they’d been alone with Lotor. 

“I…” Shiro never stumbles when he’s giving orders and Keith knows, in that moment, the reason for keeping this from him is personal. A thousand and one thoughts rush through his head at once. It’s because they’re both Galra. They don’t trust him. It’s because he left. They don’t trust him. It’s because of what happened during the fight for Naxzela. _They don’t trust him_. “We thought it was better if we meet with him first.”

Lance’s hand suddenly finds his, as an apology or a reassurance Keith isn’t sure, but he doesn’t have the willpower to pull away, doesn’t really want to. He wants to believe that Lance didn’t have any part of this, that he fought the rest of them tooth and nail. 

“Let’s get this over with.” 

Kolivan brings with him an air of finality that even Shiro doesn’t seem to want to argue with, sweeping into the room in the familiar black and purple. He slips into the somber mood like it’s a second skin. Keith’s not surprised. While his leader remains a mystery shrouded in a dark hood, Keith well understands just how formidable an opponent he is, and he can see Lotor gearing up for a fight all the way across the room. 

“Kolivan.” 

Lance’s grip tightens on his hand and Keith knows his boyfriend has made the exact same connection he has. 

“Lotor.” 

They know each other. 

For a moment, the entire room is silent. Lotor rises to his feet. Kolivan steps towards him and the hair on the back of Keith’s neck stands on end. 

“Kolivan, wouldn’t you like to know how to defeat my father?” 

For the first time, Lotor’s smug expression falters when Kolivan remains unwavering, unmoved by what Lotor must consider to be a generous offer. 

“We did not need your help then and we do not need it now,” Kolivan replies, voice like rolling thunder. “I came to meet you only as a courtesy, as thanks for your attack on Zarkon’s witch. It seems blood isn’t thicker than water.” 

Keith can’t tell if the jab found its way through Lotor’s carefully crafted armor and hit home. If it has, the long-haired man’s face remains unchanged. After a moment, he huffs, that same taunting smile reappearing on his face as he shrugs a shoulder. 

“It was the least I could do. Maybe I was feeling nostalgic, dreaming of battling at your side once more.” If it was tense before, now it seems as if the whole room is holding their breath, Lotor’s almost sacrilegious words hanging in the air. 

It’s a battle of wills, of subtle mudslinging in hopes of making the other flinch, but neither are giving and Shiro steps forward. “Kolivan, we should hear him out.” 

But Keith knows this is one of _those_ arguments, the ones that stretch over centuries with such deep-seeded grudges that the paladins can’t even begin to comprehend them. These wounds can’t be cauterized or covered with something as frivolous as the promise of winning a battle. What Lotor offers will only end one battle, if they’re lucky, but not the war, and both sides know it. 

“There is nothing he could tell us that would be worth the price he’s asking.” Keith’s going to have to agree with Kolivan on this one. He’s sure that Lotor won’t offer up any information without some sort of payoff and, right now, he hasn’t named what it is. 

But, before he can speculate, he hears Lance draw a breath beside him and he digs his nails into the other man’s hand in a silent plea for him to stay silent. He doesn’t want Lance involved in this argument but the other man’s lips have started to move. 

“What do you want from us?” He lets the question burst out of him, silencing whatever Lance was about to say. Three pairs of sharp eyes turn on him and he slowly drops Lance’s hand. “Tell us your terms and then maybe we’ll consider your deal but, right now, I think you’re full of shit.” 

Keith swears he can see Lotor’s eyes glimmer from across the room and he suddenly feels as though he’s taken a misstep, but he’s not sure what it is.

“Weren’t you a paladin before?” Lotor cocks his head to the side and looks positively delighted. “Kolivan did you _steal_ him from Voltron?” Keith wishes he could take a step back but he’d rather have Lotor stab him through the heart than back down without a fight. 

Lotor’s grinning and Keith doesn’t think he’s ever seen something more unsettling in his life. It’s not a nice smile. It’s the kind that stretches skin, bears teeth, doesn’t reach his eyes. “Should I tell your prodigy then?” 

Keith’s not sure what it is about that comment that gets to Kolivan but there’s a flash of metal and he meets Lance’s gaze. “Sharpshooter!” 

Keith’s already moving before Lance’s confirmation, leaping between Kolivan and Lotor. His blade clangs loudly as it blocks Kolivan’s first blow and he hears Lance’s gun fire. The shot grazes his cheek, close enough that he can feel the heat from the blast before it finds Lotor behind him. 

Well… it’s supposed to hit Lotor. 

The blast collides with the wall as Lotor dives out of the way, darts towards Keith and Kolivan. Before Keith can whirl around, can square up properly, Lotor’s already past him, already dashing for… 

_Lance_. 

It all happens in a flash. 

Lance fires again, hits Lotor square in the chest, but the Galra’s too close, grabs Lance around the waist and they both tumble back. For a moment, it looks as though Lance is going to break free and then suddenly Lotor is pressing a blade to his throat. 

“Stop.” 

They all freeze in their tracks, paladins with their bayards half-raised, Kolivan and Keith with their knives in hand. 

“And here I thought I would be diplomatic.” Lotor rises to his feet. Keith can see the wound from Lance’s gun, but he can’t tell if it’s substantial enough to be fatal from blood loss, at the very least. “If you want him to live, you won’t follow me.” 

Keith’s gaze finds Lance’s. _Please_. He has to do something, has to force his legs to move, his muscles to cooperate. He can make it. He can get there, knock away the blade, before Lotor can hurt Keith. He can. But his feet won’t move, frozen like poured concrete. He’s rooted to the spot as Lotor backs towards the escape pods. 

Lance. 

He can’t get his lips to cooperate either. 

Lance. 

The hand holding his blade shakes. They’re almost at the pod. 

Lance. 

_Move_. 

The door whooshes shut.   
The engines roar to life.   
The stars wink mockingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry (I'm not sorry) for the cliffhanger ending. Where is Lotor taking Lance?? And why??? 
> 
> I am actually sorry for separating Lance and Keith though, and after they seemed like they were getting BETTER. I'm sad they didn't get to fight together more because, in my head, they secretly rehearse battle moves so they can look really cool doing them.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will be weekly (hopefully), but I do work full time so please be patient!
> 
> Feedback, comments, and kudos are always, always appreciated! Also, you can find me on tumblr at [transkeithkogane](https://transkeithkogane.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
